Behind the Innocent Facade
by whirlwinds of watercolours
Summary: AU. An exploration of the Restricted Section leads Hermione Granger to finding a mysterious old diary belonging to a TM Riddle. Entranced, she begins writing to a sympathetic and understanding Tom, only to discover the fatal mistake she made.
1. The Restricted Section

**Summary: AU. An exploration of the Restricted Section leads Hermione Granger to finding a mysterious old diary belonging to a TM Riddle. Entranced, she begins writing to a sympathetic and understanding Tom, only to discover the fatal mistake she made.**

**Rating: T in case of future dark themes.**

**Word Count: 925**

**Written for: the Multichap Competition; Updates Challenge; Almost like a Novel Challenge; 100K Multichapter Competition.**

**A/N: Many thanks to my beta _Emma Quinn!_**

* * *

**1943**

Silence radiated through the dark corridors of Hogwarts Castle. Fire from the torches that hung on the walls flickered occasionally, the flame leaping a merry dance no one saw. Students shifted and turned in their respective beds, huddling closer to their blankets from the chilly night air. All but one were sound asleep.

A shadow glided smoothly through the corridors, making no noise. From the dormitory, the shadow hurried through the still corridors, stopping only in front of its destination. No one was disturbed by the creaking door of the Hogwarts Library opening.

Tom Marvolo Riddle slipped past the towering bookshelves, making his way to the roped-off Restricted Section. Ignoring the appeal the restricted Dark Arts books presented, he made his way to the innermost corner, where he produced an innocent black diary from the pocket of his robes and tucked it into the bookshelf.

With an accomplished smirk, he strolled out of the library and back to the Slytherin dormitory, satisfied with himself. Salazar Slytherin's noble work would be completed. Only those truly capable of great magic would be able to find that enchanted diary, and when they did, they would unknowingly unleash the monster within the Chamber of Secrets again.

Closing his eyes, he felt that annoying lull of sleep wash over him. These human traits were presented an annoying problem at the most unfortunate timing. He could not wait to get rid of them.

_Soon, _he told himself. Soon he would go on to become the greatest wizard the world would ever see. A cruel smile tugged at his lips when he thought about the methods he would use to get rid of all Muggle filth and despicable Mudbloods…

As he fell into a slumber, dreams of inevitable victory swirled in his mind.

* * *

**1992**

Hermione Granger felt a thrill of excitement run through her body as she clutched the signed permission slip from Professor Lockhart. As she approached the vulture-like librarian who was currently reading a thick volume at the front desk, a bout of apprehensiveness welled in her stomach. Should she be doing this? The Restricted Section was solely for research purposes, not for light reading. But she had already looked through most of the books in the browsing section and none contained information she had not come across before in one of her texts.

She wanted to learn new things, things that were beyond the second year curriculum which would surely prove useful in time to come. She could not ask others for help on her goal; they would surely assure her that the information was not needed right now. If only someone understood her thirst and desire for knowledge…

"Madam Pince?" Hermione asked nervously, clearing her throat slightly after the librarian failed to notice her presence. Reluctantly, she pushed the note with Lockhart's loopy signature towards her. Madam Pince put down her book with a small sigh of what sounded like exasperation and examined the note carefully under the light, as if determined to find a sign of forgery. When it was evident that she did not succeed, she looked up and narrowed her eyes at Hermione.

"Research for the Dark Arts?" she asked, suspicion flashing across her features as she searched Hermione's face, trying to find a trace of guilt.

"Yes," Hermione confirmed, wishing the librarian would stop boring holes at her. Madam Pince's scrutiny was rather unnerving.

"Follow me," she said, handing the permission slip back to Hermione, leading her to the cordoned-off Restricted Section. Her eyes widened in excitement at the sight of all those valuable tomes sitting on the shelf, gathering dust. Just thinking about reading them made her heart leap in joy.

As soon as Madam Pince turned back to reading her volume, Hermione looked around the Restricted Section with ill-disguised glee. There were so many fascinating tomes here, depicting pictures of ancient magic and documents of travels of famous wizards and witches… where should she start?

Her feet led her to the most secluded corner. There was a premonition, a feeling that she would find something of interest there…

Breathing in the scent of old books, she traced her fingers across the spines of the tomes. _Moste Potente Potions, Fifteen-Century Fiends, Famous Fire-Eaters… _Her hand found a book with no title, and she frowned, staring at the thin black book with curiosity. Perhaps it was so old that the title wore off?

She pulled the book out of the shelf, expecting to see a list of names of students who had borrowed the book before. To her surprise, there was no list, only one name handwritten in a neat font: TM Riddle.

Flipping through the rest of the book, she discovered it was, in fact, a diary and completely empty. Her forehead wrinkled in confusion. Who would leave their empty diary in the middle of the Restricted Section? Perhaps they had been intending to write something in the diary, but accidentally left it on the shelf…

She put it in her pocket, intending to hand it in to Madam Pince later. Meanwhile, she picked up one of the books on the shelf and began reading.

* * *

With horror, Hermione discovered it was almost dinner. Oh no! She had lost track of time! Guilt welled up in her as she thought how worried Ron and Harry were now – she had disappeared almost immediately after lunch without informing them of her whereabouts first. Quickly, she stuffed the book back into the shelf and rushed out of the library, forgetting all about the mysterious diary in her pocket.


	2. The Enchanted Diary

**Word Count: 2077**

**Thanks to my lovely betas _SpookiPooki,_ and_ VenusInHerHair._**

**Hope you enjoy this!**

* * *

"Hermione, where were you at dinner? We couldn't find you anywhere!" The concerned green eyes of Harry Potter peered at Hermione Granger worriedly as he rolled up a bit of parchment and capped his ink bottle firmly.

"Yeah," Ronald Weasley piped up from his corner of the Gryffindor Common Room, where he was frowning over the History of Magic essay he was currently working on. He tapped his quill against his parchment, deep in thought. "D'you know anything about the International Warlock Convention in 1289?"

"Ron!" Hermione sighed in exasperation. Was he even paying any attention in History of Magic at all? "Professor Binns already mentioned this at least three times in class! The Medieval Assembly of European Wizards wanted to hold a worldwide meeting, but due to unpopular response, it was cancelled."

"Oh, right," Ron nodded, his ears turning a bright red as he furiously scribbled what she just said onto his parchment. With a look of intense concentration, he measured the length of his essay carefully, and groaned when he presumably realised he had not fulfilled the requirement of three feet yet. Rolling her eyes, Hermione turned back to Harry, who had been observing them all this time with a look of amusement.

Before she opened her mouth to answer his previous question, however, a thought popped into her head. Should she tell him of the illegal tour of the Restricted Section? Harry himself went there last year under the Invisibility Cloak to look up for information on Nicolas Flamel, but she did not have a specific purpose this time. What if he did not approve, did not understand that thirst for knowledge? What if he thought she was dabbling with the Dark Arts? Or worse, what if he tried to convince her from doing any more exploration?

No, she would not tell him, she decided. Guilt washed over her at the prospect of keeping secrets from her friends, but she pushed it down. She would not tell him the complete truth – just half of it. That would not be considered lying, would it?

"I was in the library," Hermione began after a long and awkward pause, "reading a book, and lost track of time. I'm sorry, Harry, I didn't mean to!" Mentally, she crossed her fingers, hoping Harry did not spot the lie in her words.

Harry smiled, clearly accepting her explanation, and that knot of worry in her stomach dissolved. He believed her. That was all it mattered right now.

* * *

Morning dawned after a restless night for Hermione Granger. After a night of tossing and turning due to excitement that she finally managed to get into the Restricted Section, her body felt sore and stiff. Stifling a yawn, she made her way down to the Black Lake, intending to do a bit of light reading before breakfast.

With her arms full of books, she picked a shaded tree by the edge of the lake. In the early Saturday morning, very few students were up, ensuring peace and quiet for her with relatively few disturbances. A cooling breeze skittered across the lake, and every now and again the Giant Squid could be seen floating on the water, basking in the rays of the rising sun.

As she took a seat under the tree, she felt an unyielding shape press itself into her body. Frowning as she wondered what it could be, her hand reached into the pocket of her school robes, pulling out the object in question. An unknown, yet familiar small black diary rested in her hands, and her brows furrowed. Where had she seen a diary like this before?

As she flipped it to the first page, the answer came to her. Of course – this was the one she found in the Restricted Section! In her hurry to meet with Ron and Harry, she had forgotten all about the mysterious diary tucked in a bookshelf in the corner of the section. At this time, the Hogwarts library was not yet open and Madam Pince was never seen elsewhere other than in the company of her beloved books. Sure, she could hand it to another professor, but Madam Pince would be the most suitable choice; perhaps the diary did belong to the library. O perhaps it was not a diary at all, but a book that could only be read by older students. Yes, she had heard all about those enchanted age-restricted books, the little black diary-like book must be one of them.

Determined not to forget about it this time, she placed it at the top of the pile of books she had bought with her to the lake. Head swirling with theories about what the mysterious book was, she picked up a copy of _Voyages with Vampires_ - which she had already read a few times, but one can never be sure one had not missed any information - and began reading from the beginning to try and clear her head from the thoughts about the diary-like book plaguing her.

Halfway through the first chapter, a dark shadow loomed over Hermione. Engrossed in her book and thinking it was just the shadow of a tree or the Giant Squid, she did not notice anyone standing over her until they cleared their throat loudly.

At the sound of a disturbance, Hermione put down her book and looked up to find herself staring into the steely grey eyes of Draco Malfoy.

A haughty look seemed to be permanently imprinted on the blonde's pale face. His eyes were gleaming with glee, and a vile smirk graced his sharp, pointed features. Hermione felt irritation rise in her at the mere sight of him.

"What do you want, Malfoy?" she asked, annoyance lacing her tone as she stood up. She did not want to feel short compared to him and have the feeling of him looking down his nose at her.

"Not feeling so high-and-mighty now without Potty and Weasel around to protect you, Mudblood?" he snickered instead of directly answering her question. Behind him, his glued-to-the-hip companions, Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle, gave a grunt which she took as an agreement to what Malfoy just said.

After a few weeks of calling her a 'Mudblood', she had gotten used to her new nickname, although it still did sting a bit whenever the Slytherins went into a chorus of 'Mudblood, Mudblood!'. However, she was not going to give Malfoy the satisfaction of seeing her hurt.

"I don't need their protection; I manage fine without Harry and Ron," she replied coldly, a biting edge in her voice. Her patience with the pureblood Malfoy heir was wearing thin. "However, I regret that I can't say the same for you."

Malfoy flushed an angry dark red when he realised what she meant. He opened his mouth to retort, but found himself incapable of finding a suitable quip. His hand reached into his pocket, intending to draw his wand and hex her, but not before casting a glance at their surroundings to make sure no professor was watching them. While he did not find any angry, reprimanding professors stalking up to them and demanding them to keep their wands away, he did find a diary-like book lying innocently by Hermione's feet. The dark look disappeared, to be replaced by one of ill-disguised delight.

"What's that you got there, Granger?" he taunted, looking like Christmas had come early in October. Before Hermione could react and stop him, he swooped down and snatched the diary-like book from the pile of other books, ducking out of reach as he opened the book. Hermione made a grab for it, but was blocked by Crabbe and Goyle, who seemed curious to know the contents of her 'diary' as well.

"Charmed your diary so no one else could read it, Mudblood?" he sneered, after flipping through every page and finding it blank. "How clever of you. I wonder, what secrets do you hide in your diary? In love with Weasley and too scared to tell him?" He raised his wand.

Thinking he was going to curse the diary - which would have plenty of hexes and jinxes, since Madam Pince was always protective of her books - Hermione finally found her voice. "Malfoy, that's not mine! That's the library's, it'd have many protective-"

Malfoy did not or did not bother to hear her warning. "_Aparecium!_" he cast, tapping on the diary three times. To his annoyance, he found that the pages remained empty and his jeering expression morphed into one of frustration. He tried again, with the same fruitless results. Hermione watched, waiting for him to give back the diary, knowing that his attempts were in vain. It had age-restricted material, and no amount of Revealing Charms cast by one the books deem too young would make the words appear.

Finally, he gave up. "Take your stupid diary back, Mudblood!" he snarled. However, instead of passing the book to her, he aimed it at the Black Lake. Hermione could only watch with horror as it was hurled it into the middle of the lake and landed with a splash - that was not her property! Oh, Madam Pince was going to kill her for losing a library book!

Turning back to face Hermione, the cruel smirk was back into place. "Have fun fishing for your diary, Mudblood!" he taunted, before stalking up the steps to the castle, trailed by his two followers. She watched until he was only a blond spot in the distance, slicked-back hair glinting in the sun, before turning back to face her current predicament.

* * *

Levitating a sopping diary-like book and carrying a pile of dry and unharmed books in her arms, Hermione Granger made her way up to the Gryffindor Common Room. Thankfully, with the help of the Giant Squid who had pushed the sinking library book back to the surface of the water, she was able to retrieve it from the depths of the Black Lake. She had to find a way to thank the Squid later.

By the time she managed to retrieve the library book and made it back to the castle, breakfast was already over and Hermione was starving. She had already missed last night's dinner and now breakfast as well, she had to make it to lunch or she might collapse from the hunger.

Back in the dormitory, she set down the pile of books in her arms first, before going over to examine the levitating black enchanted book. Holding it gingerly, she was about to use a Hot-Air Charm to dry the pages when she realised, with incredulity, that the pages were _already _dry. It was only the cover that was wet.

Blinking in surprise, she ran her fingers across the page in front of her, discovering that she was not mistaken: indeed, it was dry. Flipping through the rest of the enchanted book, she found out that the other pages were dry, too. But... but how could it happen? She was sure that the short walk from the lake to the Gryffindor Common Room was not long enough to allow all the water from the library book to evaporate. Nor did the library book have an Impervius Charm, since the cover was currently dripping water all over the girls' dormitory and making a mess.

Unless the library book was not an ordinary one.

With bated breath, she wet the tip of her finger with the puddle of lake water on the floor, before carefully drawing a line on one of the pages of the enchanted book. If her experiment failed, at least the water would not leave a permanent stain, unlike ink or other liquids.

The water shimmered slightly in the light from the window, before disappearing completely in front of Hermione's very own eyes.

This was certainly not protected by the Impervius Charm – if it had been, the water would not have left a mark at all. What a strange phenomenon; she had never read about books that were charmed to absorb liquids as a way of protection. The book would have to have a mind of its own to absorb all these things instead of repelling them. Unless... The book slipped from her fingers, falling onto the floor with a dull _thud_ as a shocking thought entered her mind.

_Unless this book was a Dark item..._

Seizing the enchanted book, Hermione Granger ran out of the Gryffindor Common Room to find a professor.


	3. A Visit to a Professor and a Discovery

**Word Count: 1654**

**A/N: I don't think this is my best piece of work, but do try to enjoy. Many thanks to _Emma Quinn_ and _VenusInHerHair_!_  
_**

* * *

_If this really is a Dark object, Professor Lockhart would be the best person to go to. Not only is he the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, but he also has extensive knowledge in Dark artefacts. He should be able to tell whether the diary's cursed or not._

Standing outside the office door of their Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Gilderoy Lockhart, Hermione took a deep breath, composing herself. When she was satisfied that she had calmed down most of her nerves, she raised a fist and rapped her knuckles against the wood three times.

"Come in, come in!" the excited voice of Professor Lockhart exclaimed from inside. Gripping the cold brass knob tightly, she twisted the door open and stepped in, glancing around nervously.

For a moment, she thought she had stepped into the wrong room. Pictures and pictures of Gilderoy Lockhart hung on the walls, covering every bare inch with various Lockharts posing in many elegant fashions and flashing the same wide, beaming smile. In her opinion, it seemed to be more of a room with many, many mirrors than a Professor's office, but she decided not to say anything about the decorum of the room to Lockhart. It was his office, after all.

Distracted by the many photographs, Hermione did not notice the real Professor Lockhart sitting behind his desk until he spoke up – it was a little difficult to differentiate between the real Lockhart and the pictures of Lockhart. "Miss Granger!" he called with a voice practically oozing with delight, startling her out of her thoughts about the room. "Ah, what a pleasant surprise! May I ask what brings you here on this fine Saturday morning?"

Clearing her throat, she produced the little black book from the pocket of her robes and placed it onto the polished oak table, sliding it towards Lockhart for him to examine. Sincerely hoping she was not making a fool of herself by claiming it was a Dark item then discovering it was just a normal object, she answered his question. "Professor, I believe this may be a Dark artefact. When I dripped water on it-"

The jovial smile vanished from Lockhart's face at her words, to be replaced by one of confusion as he held out a hand to interrupt her mid-sentence. Picking up the book, he flipped through it once with an air of carelessness, his brows knitting together when he presumably realised it was empty. He scrutinised the book for a few moments, before placing it back down onto his desk and looking up at her. To her immense surprise, she saw that the merry grin was back on his face already. Did he not believe her?

"Miss Granger dear, there is nothing Dark about that diary! Merely an innocent trinket for you to convey your most innermost thoughts about a certain someone in," Lockhart chuckled with a wink. Brushing off the hidden meaning with a slight blush, she opened her mouth again to back up her claim. After all, how could he be sure just by flipping through it once? He had not even heard her full explanation!

"But professor…"

"No buts, Miss Granger," Lockhart interrupted firmly before she could finish her sentence. She could just detect a small hint of impatience under his cheerful tone. Perhaps he wanted to get back to grading their Defence Against the Dark Arts papers, Hermione noted upon seeing a small pile of parchment sitting in front of him. "I'm very certain that it has not been tampered with Dark magic," he continued, confidence radiating in his tone. "Not even a trace in those pages! Now," he said, changing the topic abruptly and checking his watch, his expression turning to one of surprise as he did so. "Great Scott – look at the time! It's almost lunch! You better get down to the Great Hall soon – you don't want to miss lunch now, do you, Miss Granger? I'll be down later, I have to finish these first." He tapped the pile of parchment on the desk.

His absolute sureness of the fact that the diary was harmless eased her frayed nerves a little, and she nodded, pocketing the diary again. After last year's events with the Philosopher's Stone, she had gotten a bit paranoid – appearances were deceiving, she had learnt. But she was fairly certain Lockhart was trustworthy – he was quite a straight and honest person in class – and an expert in Dark Arts, judging from the sheer number of books he had written and the adventures it depicted him having. With the amount of knowledge he had, he should have been able to tell if the diary was dark or not straightaway. Since Lockhart had said the diary was not, there had to be some other explanation for the absorption of liquids.

And he was right about something else too – it _was_ almost lunch. Even though she was not a glutton and did not stuff herself at the mere sight of food like Ron did, it would do no good to miss another meal just because of a little book.

Bidding Lockhart a farewell, she was about to exit his office when she paused. She had to make sure.

"You're very sure there's no trace of Dark magic in the diary, Professor? None at all?"

"Yes, Miss Granger," Lockhart answered without hesitation as he picked up his peacock-feather quill, dipping it into the pot of ink on his desk. "None at all. Now off you go; I have to finish answering the last of these fan mails."

And with that confirmation in mind, Hermione Granger left the Defence Against the Dark Arts office.

* * *

"Finally, you decided to join us," Ron muttered to himself as he stabbed a sausage with much more strength than necessary when Hermione slid down into the seat next to them in the Great Hall.

"Ron, what do you mean by that?" Hermione asked, slightly annoyed by his dark mood and puzzled at his words.

"I think he means to say is you've been acting a little strange since last night, Hermione," Harry said, looking up at her with those concerned bright green eyes. "Is there something wrong?"

"No, nothing's wrong," Hermione shook her head, this time telling the truth. She just wanted to forget all about the diary fiasco that happened in the morning as soon as possible. "I was just caught up with studying and the workload, Ron. Something you should try once in a while that might do you good."

As Ron's ears turned bright red, he suddenly changed the topic to the details of an infamous prank pulled by Fred and George on the Slytherins a few days ago.

* * *

None. Absolutely nothing.

No information from the library about books absorbing liquids at all. Hermione had combed through the entire Charms section with little success. The best reason she could come up with was the Impervius Charm, but she proved that hypothesis wrong herself that very morning.

She had approached the counter to return Madam Pince the book, but the vulture-like librarian vehemently denied it was ever part of the library. When she questioned her about books absorbing liquids and possibly other substances, the librarian said it wasn't possible for books to do that.

Feeling frustrated, Hermione stomped up the stairs of the girls' dormitory, annoyed at the strange book. She had wasted an entire afternoon trying to solve the mystery of the book – she had not even finished her weekend homework yet, for Merlin's sake! Even as she pulled out her History of Magic notes and fresh parchment, the diary lay there innocently, the riddle waiting to be solved…

Like a fly drawn towards the light, she picked up the book, flipping through its pages once more even though she knew they were blank. A strange idea came to her, and she chewed the end of her quill thoughtfully. Perhaps she should try _asking _the book? It was a silly idea; surely it would not work…

Dipping the tip of the quill into her ink pot, her hand hovered over the pages, an inner debate taking place. Technically, this book – she really should start calling this a diary, instead of a book, since it did not provide any knowledge whatsoever – belonged to her now, since Madam Pince said it was not part of the Hogwarts library. She should not feel guilty for writing in her own book – diary – right?

Her Gryffindor courage kicked in, and before the sane part of herself could stop her, her quill was scratching against the rough pages of the diary.

"What's wrong with this book?"

As expected, the ink faded from its pages. But this time, something new appeared.

_Wrong? My apologies, but I don't know what you mean by this. Pardon me for asking, but how did you come by my diary?_

Her breathing sped up and her writing became more frenzied as she hurriedly scrawled a reply. "I found it in a corner of the Restricted Section. This is your diary?" Should she return it to the rightful owner, then? But the date showed that the diary was fifty years old, so how was she to find the rightful owner, unless one of his or her descendants attended Hogwarts right now?

_Yes, this is my diary. I'm Tom Riddle, and you are?_

For a few moments, she hesitated, since her parents always told her not to trust strangers. But a diary could not possibly harm her. Besides, it was not as if Tom Riddle was some Dark wizard with a desire to kill or harm children; she would have heard of him if he had been a Death Eater. Also, it might actually be useful to carry a friend around in her pocket.

So without further ado, she dipped her quill into the ink pot again and wrote on the blank pages of the diary.

"I'm Hermione Granger."


End file.
